


In and Out of Love

by strangesaturday



Series: Press your lips to mine / till they are incandescent [3]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Anal Sex, Beekeeping, Canon Compliant, Data Has Android Emotions, Data does unconvincing silver fox cosplay, Domestic, Established Relationship, Geordi is a silver fox, M/M, Oral Sex, Technobabble, Transhumanism, Wire Play, and android sexuality for that matter, bees make me emotional, but make it romantic?, or rather canon-compliant for the show while ignoring the movies and Picard, philosophical discussions of mortality and the self, so do Ariana and Beverly, the emotion chip is for recreational use, the reader can have two chapters of smut as a treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26653102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangesaturday/pseuds/strangesaturday
Summary: The year is 2389, and in a little cottage on a verdant patch of the Red Planet, Geordi and Data have no particular plans to celebrate their 15th wedding anniversary. When Data springs shocking news on Geordi, they are forced to wrestle with some hard questions:What makes a person who they are? What does long-term love mean when one of you might never die? And how do you love someone while leaving them behind?A cozy, sexy, philosophical three-day (plus one morning) journey with the boys from Engineering and a couple of ladies who love them a whole lot.
Relationships: Ariana La Forge & Geordi La Forge, Beverly Crusher & Data, Data/Geordi La Forge
Series: Press your lips to mine / till they are incandescent [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952551
Comments: 58
Kudos: 75





	1. Judith and Holofernes

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after my fics “A Glimpse” and “What You’re Able To Give.” You won’t be confused if you haven’t read them, but… you should read them :)
> 
> I know human lifespans became significantly longer in the 24th century, but am ignoring that for narrative smoothness. So please think about everyone’s ages a little metaphorically.

_The book of love is long and boring  
No one can lift the damn thing_

_It's full of charts and facts and figures  
And instructions for dancing_

– _The Magnetic Fields_

Geordi stood at the kitchen window on the morning of their 15th wedding anniversary, sipping his coffee and feeling largely at peace.

As he put away his empty mug, he heard Data’s footsteps come down the stairs.

“Good morning, Geordi.” Data wore a robe, his hair a little out of place. He had done his research and practiced this act to perfection, the “attractively disheveled morning after” look.

“Morning. There’s coffee.”

“Thank you.” Data made pointed eye contact. “I have overslept.”

Geordi smiled. Data did not oversleep, if he slept at all, but he did know how to play house.

It was a white cottage with black trim situated in a lushly terraformed stretch of the Red Planet. On the sunny side of the cottage there was a garden festooned with swathes of netting to keep out curious wildlife, beyond the garden a tall gray barn. In its shade a bicycle leaned against a parked shuttle craft, and across the dirt road from the house, a large pond was surrounded by willow trees. The interior of the cottage was all very Baker Street, if instead of a detective and a doctor, Holmes and Watson had been a pair of space-faring mechanical engineers. The heart of the house was a grand fireplace, the mantle of which displayed a jumble of holocam images of friends and family, and in pride of place at the center, a hologram of Tasha Yar next to a little wooden box marked ‘Spot.’

The house finally felt like home. They’d moved there after Geordi’s retirement a couple of years prior— he’d been surprised how ready he was to leave Starfleet. Maybe the all the wild years on the Enterprise were to blame. They’d settled into a pleasant academic life, both teaching at the nearby university, Data churning out a steady stream of scientific papers and poetry alike.

“Geordi, it is our anniversary.”

“Really? I didn’t realize.” Geordi tipped his partner’s face down into a kiss.

Data pulled away much too quickly. “Have you given the cats their breakfast?”

For his part, Data looked exactly as he had 25 years ago when they first met. Geordi did not. He was a little grayer, not quite as slim, though his sister assured him he looked pretty good for a senior citizen (he was only 54, thanks a lot, Ariana). Data had added a rather stylish hint of white at his temples, but when he and Geordi went together to the university or out on a date, they nonetheless looked like a middle-aged man going out with a partner at least a decade and a half his junior. Geordi... sort of hated it. But there was nothing to be done.

Geordi gripped Data’s waist, finding it difficult to let go. “And they say romance is dead. No, I haven’t, I’ll feed them now.” He crossed the kitchen to replicate the appropriate food, and when the dishes clinked against the kitchen tiles, a pair of black and white cats bounded into the room.

“You have once again confused their nutritional preferences. Deut prefers supplement number thirty-three; Anti will eat only number sixty-eight.”

“I guess they’ll just have to swap bowls today.”

“What is the purpose of marking the bowls with their names if they do not eat out of the correct one?”

Data had retrieved a cup of coffee and a small glass of biofluid chaser. Sitting at the kitchen table, he had already begun poring over the PADDs left there the previous night. Geordi studied his partner’s face. It was impossible to tell whether Data was messing with him, or was truly invested in this cat bowl conversation. Geordi decided it wasn’t worth finding out. He joined Data at the table as Deuterium and Antideuterium lapped up their breakfast.

“Hey, Data.”

Data hummed brightly in recognition, but did not look up from his reading.

“Are you going to wish me a happy anniversary?”

Data’s yellow eyes met Geordi’s ocular implants in a flash. “I acknowledged the singularity of the date when I greeted you a moment ago.”

Geordi fiddled with a salt shaker. “You acknowledged it, but you weren’t very... celebratory about it.”

“In the past you have stated: ‘We don’t have to make a big deal out of every anniversary; they all bleed together anyway.’” It was strange to hear Data use a contraction, even in the context of quotation.

“Okay, true, but... this is a pretty big one. Fifteen years married, twenty together— I think that’s worthy of a little bit of celebration.”

Data tilted his head, still gazing at his partner. “I see. Of course, Geordi. Please, allow me to make amends.”

He pushed his chair away from the table and reached out a hand. Geordi took it, and Data pulled him down to his lap. He placed a soft, deliberate kiss on Geordi’s lips. Geordi pressed his mouth deeply against the android’s, fumblingly untied his robe and snaked his arms around the smooth synthetic torso within. Data broke away from the kiss once more, but this time, pressed Geordi’s cheek to his own and spoke softly in the engineer’s ear:

“Happy anniversary.”

Geordi was flooded with warmth, pressed their bodies closer. “Happy anniversary.”

After a leisurely breakfast, Data announced he had something to show Geordi, and led him to his office. Well, “office” wasn’t quite right. While the old barn had been easy to convert into a workshop for Geordi’s mechanical pursuits, Data’s research required a temperature-controlled laboratory environment. They had been obliged to add on to the back of the cottage; from the outside, the lab looked like a slick modern afterthought on the old building’s side. Not that the lab was inhospitably clinical— Data had hung a few paintings, and it had been the backdrop for a number of romantic encounters as routine maintenance sessions devolved into sexual exploits. Geordi wondered if this was one of those times.

“Do not mistake this for an anniversary gift. The timing is incidental.”

“Can you tell me if this has to do with that big project you wouldn’t tell me about?”

“Indeed, this _is_ ‘that big project.’”

The right side of the lab housed a bay of holoscreens, a wide computer terminal, and rather incongruously, a plain wooden desk and office chair piled high with tidy stacks of PADDs and books. On the wall hung a framed print of Artemisia Gentileschi’s _Judith Slaying Holofernes._ When Geordi had questioned the somewhat shocking decorative decision, Data explained he admired how Gentileschi had captured the look of confident resolution in Judith’s face. _Fair enough._ On the left side of the lab was a reclining exam table, a wall of counter space and equipment storage, and one of Data’s own paintings: a maritime-era ship bursting through clouds. _Technically impressive as always, but a little derivative_ _as far as_ _subject matter_ _,_ Geordi thought privately. The center of the lab was dominated by a cybernetic diagnostic chamber, its clouded crystal polystyrene doors closed.

Geordi dropped into Data’s office chair, right underneath _Judith_. “This had better be pretty mind-blowing, buddy, for it to be worth all the secrecy.”

Data paused, considering. “I am not sure ‘mind-blowing’ is the best descriptor. However I am confident you will not be disappointed.” Data moved to the center of the room and tapped at the diagnostic chamber’s control pad. He peered at Geordi down the length of his prominent nose and asked with some gravitas, “Are you ready?”

Geordi hugged a knee to his chest. “Lay it on me.”

The doors of the diagnostic chamber telescoped open. Inside, there was an android. It had no skin. All the muscles of its arms and legs were present, but its open rib cage housed only a rudimentary biofluid circulation pump, and a cluster of wires which trailed out of its thorax and terminated in a pair of subprocessor units resting in the android’s pelvis, clearly a temporary arrangement. Its face, like the rest of its body, had no skin, just a set of perfect white teeth and a pair of empty eye sockets. The verterium cortenide skull shone in the light.

For a long, long moment, Geordi just stared. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured. “What am I… what am I supposed to take from this, Data?”

Data cocked his head. “Is it not evident? Though further experimentation is required, I believe I have successfully constructed a stable positronic brain.”

Geordi stared another moment. Something about the structure of the android’s skull looked familiar. “What do you…” He shook his head. “You made a stable brain?”

“Yes, that is what I said.”

“So… you made another child? Without asking me about it?”

Data looked perplexed. “No, Geordi, this is for you.”

Geordi’s face went ashen. He appraised the incomplete android with new eyes. It was the right height. The right build. And even without any skin, it was unmistakably his own face.

He stood, crossed the room. Then, realizing he had nowhere to go, walked back to the bay of holoscreens. Data watched him with yellow eyes wide. Geordi leaned on the terminal and, catching a glimpse of his own haggard reflection, looked to his feet.

It took Data a painfully long moment to realize his big reveal had not gone to plan. “You are... upset.”

Geordi barked out a laugh. “Data, I’d say I’m a little more than upset! I hate this! I hate that you did this without talking to me.”

Data looked very exposed; as if to match his expression his robe threatened to slip off one shoulder. “We have on many occasions discussed the possibility of creating an android body for you.”

“That was hypothetical, Data! A couple of hypothetical conversations doesn’t give you blanket permission to— to do something like this!

“I apologize. It was not my intent—” Data cut himself short, and for once he didn’t continue. Geordi wouldn’t meet his eyes, so he stared at Holofernes. Arterial spray splattered Judith’s pale arms as she sawed off his head. His blood seeped in quiet rivulets onto the bed sheets below.

Geordi shook his head, still leaning. “This is so out of line, Data. I can’t believe you’d think this was a fine thing to do.”

“It— it is not clear to me what I have done wrong. Perhaps I should have consulted—”

“Yes! Yes, you should have. If you had said to me, ‘Hey, I made a stable brain, things are getting really real! Do you want me to make an android replica of you to plug your consciousness into after you die?’ Then I would have had a chance to say, ‘Wow, that’s kind of a lot, I really need to think about that.’ But you didn’t. You just went ahead and did it, because you can’t conceptualize how screwed up it would be to have a stripped-down metal version of yourself staring you in the face.”

Data paused. “Geordi, I have had numerous experiences similar to what you have described.”

“That’s different.” Geordi pushed away from the terminal. “That’s different. You and I are different.”

Data had seen Geordi angry before. He had never seen him this _kind_ of angry.

“I— I do not know what to say.”

Finally, Geordi looked Data in the eyes. “I think that’s probably for the best.”

Data’s faintly perplexed expression did nothing to convey how hard his positronic brain was working to wrap itself around what just happened.

Geordi couldn’t look at him any longer. He stormed out of the lab, leaving Data standing there next to the half-assembled effigy, staring into Judith’s grim face.


	2. An active choice

Data had taken on the challenge of lifelong partnership like he would any other: by researching the topic extensively. The scholarly works, interviews, stage plays, personal diaries, novels and historical documents he combed through, combined with years of his own observation, led him to three primary conclusions regarding the longevity of romantic partnerships:

Number One. It is not enough to let romance happen, you must create it deliberately. Data found this concept was best summarized by the ancient platitude, “It’s the little things.” Thus, he had devised a schedule for manufacturing delight in their relationship. He maintained a spreadsheet of compliments to give his partner; for example, _The_ _musculature_ _of_ _your back_ _is_ _particularly rewarding to observe after you have emerged from an aqueous shower_ had caused Geordi to blush 13 percent more deeply than anticipated. Flowers and other small gifts were given on a randomized bi-monthly rotation. And every third year, Data planned a special off-planet excursion for the pair: he found Geordi responded particularly positively to trips that offered new sights and sounds while also referencing shared experiences from their past. Data found it fascinating that, although as far as he knew Geordi maintained no such schedule, the engineer seemed to have little trouble finding ways to manufacture delight, or the android equivalent of it, in Data himself.

Number Two. Being a good romantic partner means being a good roommate. This had been more of a challenge for him than anticipated. Sometimes, cleaning up after Geordi made him a Good Roommate. Other times, it made him Irritating and Overbearing. Geordi explained that tidying your partner’s mess _once they are done making it_ is a very kind thing to do. Picking up and putting objects away the moment Geordi set them down was _incredibly annoying._ But, Data had challenged, if Geordi needed to use the object again, it would be Data’s pleasure to return it to him. Geordi explained that “That wasn’t really the point.” Data learned that organizing your partner’s clothes, books, and personal effects was likewise _incredibly annoying_ , unless the organizational strategy was known by and agreed upon by both parties. It had taken Data longer than he cared to admit to fully internalize these lessons.

Number Three. In many ways, the most important lesson. Being in love is an active choice. Of course for Data, this was doubly true. In a sense, he reflected, he had begun to “choose” Geordi from the moment they met and the engineer greeted him like he would any other person. He had made it easy. Data understood that for Geordi, the act of “choosing” him every day was not as simple as a string of binary inputs— Humans were subject to the vicissitudes of organic life: shifting mood, hormonal changes, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Data did not expect Geordi to “choose” him every day, just a reasonable majority of days. Geordi had agreed that expectation was more than fair.

Data wondered if Geordi would be able to choose him today.

Data found him curled in the window seat in the living room, chewing a fingernail and staring absently at the willow trees across the road. Deuterium and Antideuterium tumbled wildly on the rug, as if they might live up to their names and generate a teradyne or two of warp energy. Then Deut slapped his sister resoundingly on the nose, and the scuffle was settled as quickly as it had begun.

“May I join you?”

Geordi did not look at him. “Uh huh.”

Data sat rigidly at the other end of the window seat. His hair was tidy and he was fully-dressed— no more 'attractive dishevelment.' "I would like to speak with you regarding the events of the morning.”

Geordi glanced in his direction. “Go ahead.”

Data paused, considering what approach to take. A straight-forward apology seemed like the best option. “I have little to say other than I am sorry for what I have done. It is my constant priority to maintain your mental and emotional wellness, and I have acted counter to my own purposes. I will do whatever it takes to remedy the situation, including destroying the artificial body.”

Geordi considered his partner’s face. Data watched him intently.

“I don’t… I don’t want you to destroy all your hard work, Data.”

“If that is what is necessary to make things right, I will not hesitate.”

Geordi sighed. “No, that’s not what’s necessary. Everything’s gonna be okay, buddy, I just needed some time to cool down before we could talk this through.”

Data’s brow furrowed earnestly. “That is a reasonable need.”

“Yeah,” Geordi said. They observed each other in silence. Antideuterium yelped. She had gotten a claw stuck in the rug.

Geordi unfolded himself and reached out to the android. “Come here.” Data moved to lean into his chest, and Geordi struggled to enclose the lanky body in his arms. “Why do you have to be so _long_ _?”_ He asked, nuzzling Data’s shoulder.

“I had no say in my construction, bodily proportions included.”

“True. Though, who does?” Geordi paused. Well… _he_ could. “Alright, so, Data. Let’s keep things hypothetical,” he began, winding a strand of Data’s dark hair around his finger. “If we were gonna go through with this, it would be something we worked on together. A collaboration.”

“You are referring to the completion of the body?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes, it would of course be a collaborative effort.”

“Right. If we did this, hypothetically speaking, I would need to be the foreman of the project.”

Data affectionately gripped Geordi’s side. “You are the Chief Engineer.”

Geordi snorted. “Not anymore I’m not. Do you see a combadge anywhere?”

Data smiled minutely. “I do not.” _It is in_ _the left-hand_ _drawer_ _of your desk_ _, Geordi._

“Look at me.”

Data shifted to lean against the windowpane. Geordi took him by the hand.

“Listen. I’m sorry for reacting so… intensely this morning. You really caught me off guard. To be honest, I felt pretty violated, and I was upset you didn’t involve me in your thought process. I know it was meant to be a nice surprise, but Humans don’t love being confronted with their own mortality.”

Data nodded. “I misjudged what your response would be. I think of the body as a symbol not of impending death, but ongoing life.”

“Right, it makes sense we’d have pretty different perspectives on that. Look, I don’t want you to destroy the body. But I don’t want you to keep working on it either, at least not for now. Is that fair?”

“Quite fair.”

“Okay, good.” Geordi brought Data’s hands to his lips, pressed kisses over the pale knuckles. “I’m gonna keep thinking about this. I need you to be patient with me.”

“Geordi, when it comes to you, I am capable of near-limitless patience.”

Geordi smiled against Data’s hand. “I’m glad. I’ll do my best not to leave you in the lurch too long.”

Data leaned over and slipped a hand under Geordi’s sweater, a quietly tantalizing move he had perfected long ago. For the first time since breakfast, they kissed.

They spent the rest of the evening in the quiet glow of reconciliation. Data played violin in the living room, the cats at his feet tracking the movement of his bow with rapturous attention. While Geordi prepared dinner they argued the relative merit of auxiliary versus adjunct notation when tracking flux degeneration— the debate became so heated, at least on Geordi’s end, that he forgot to watch the oven, and his baked salmon was transformed into fish-flavored charcoal. Over a dinner of replicated stir fry, Data conceded that under certain extremely specific circumstances, adjunct notation produced marginally more accurate readings, though he could not imagine such a high degree of accuracy would ever be necessary. Geordi announced that was all he had needed to hear. It was past midnight by the time they ascended the stairs to their bedroom.

In the darkness, Data monitored Geordi’s breath and body temperature. They had gone to bed over an hour ago, and Geordi had still not entered REM 1. Data spoke into the back of his partner’s neck. “You are awake.”

Geordi shifted under the covers. “Yeah.”

“Is something troubling you?”

“Yeah. I’m still thinking about it.”

“‘It’?”

“The body.”

“Ah.” Data hesitated. “If I may I inquire, in what context?”

Geordi rolled over. They were almost nose-to-nose. “Data. Answer me this: I get old. I die. You plug my memories into a positronic brain. What about the _me_ that dies with my body? Maybe it would just be like I died, and unrelatedly, a copy of me that isn’t the _same_ me suddenly woke up.”

Data thought for a moment. “If my body were destroyed and my neural map was imprinted on a new brain, would the resulting ‘copy’ not also be me?”

“I don’t know, would it?” Through the blackness, Geordi’s optical implants picked up the android’s impassive expression. He sighed, rubbed an apologetic hand along his partner’s waist. “Okay, yes, of course it would be you. You’d still be my Data. But that’s only true from an external point of view— loading you into a new body wouldn’t stop the old one from dying, with that original instance of you inside it.”

“I struggle to understand the relevance of this perspective. Your neural map, all that is you, can be applied to a new, synthetic body. Your consciousness can persist.”

“I don’t know if that matters if I can’t experience… a sense of continuity.”

“‘Continuity,’” Data repeated. “Geordi, you are referring to the concept of the soul.”

“No, no, that’s not really what I— I mean— I don’t know.” Suddenly, Geordi was awash with fatigue. “I think this might be... one of those organic versus synthetic things.”

The android blinked. “I see.” He rolled onto his back. In profile, Geordi could see his ghostly face was marred by confusion.

Geordi cringed. He couldn’t think of a worse feeling that being out-of-sync with Data. He thought of what he’d said in the lab that morning: _You and I are different._

“Listen... I don’t know where my brain is right now. Let’s talk about this tomorrow. I love you, Data.”

Under the covers, Data gave Geordi’s hand a squeeze, and closed his yellow eyes. Geordi closed his, and tried to dream of anything else.


	3. Can I tell you something kind of crazy?

_Help me to see. Like you do… I want to see in shallow, dim, beautiful Human ways._

– _The Naked Now_

Geordi caught Data on the way out the door, PADDfolio tucked under his arm.

“Data, wait! I can’t believe I almost missed seeing you off. And, you know, seeing you.”

Data wore a satin shirt tucked into a pair of immaculately tailored high-waist trousers, a tweed jacket with ultramarine piping that reached to mid-thigh, and a pair of black boots so brilliantly shiny Geordi could see the details of his ocular implants reflected in them. Frankly, the whole look was a little flashy, even for a keynote speaker, but Geordi wasn’t about to offer critical feedback. In his biased opinion, his partner looked very sharp indeed.

Data’s tone was sincere as ever. “It is fortunate that you have avoided what would have certainly been a tragic eventuality.”

“Uh huh.” Geordi pulled Data into a kiss. “Don’t worry, I didn’t wrinkle anything. Knock ‘em dead, buddy.”

Data’s hand was on the doorknob. “Thank you, Geordi. I intend to.” He couldn’t help but add: “Figuratively.”

They nodded in crisp unison, and Geordi had to smile. Some things never change. From the front window he watched Data mount his bicycle and pedal off down the road, moving just a touch faster than was strictly Human.

Geordi would have to miss this particular lecture, because soon the sun would begin to set over Mogadishu, Somalia, and his sister would be sitting down for a visit with her favorite (and only) brother. He retrieved the portable subspace console from his office.

Ariana La Forge was five years her brother’s junior, and smiled like she was in possession of a wonderful secret. She sat on a swing on her back porch, and the evening light lent her dark skin an orangey glow. In her lap she held a baby, maybe two years old, who tugged idly at her braids. “Geordi! How are you? You look tired, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing, I just slept too long. What’s wrong with you?”

She stuck out her tongue.

“No, really, you look beautiful. I’ve missed you, Ariana.”

Ariana smiled. “Oh who cares about that, look at this guy! This is Shidane, my neighbor. I’m watching him tonight so his mom can have some peace. Say hello, Shidane!” She waved the baby’s arm. Shidane did not seem interested in making Geordi’s acquaintance. “Where’s your android? Avoiding me again?”

Geordi rolled his eyes. “He’s not avoiding you, Ari, he’s got an appointment in town this morning. Actually, he’s the keynote speaker for a lecture series on probability mechanics, one that I’m missing to talk to you.”

“Oh wow, aren’t you gallant.” She shifted the baby in her lap. “Actually, that’s really sweet of you, Geordi. I’m sorry you’re missing it,” she added soberly.

Geordi smiled. That was his sister. “Where are your people?”

“Kafiya’s right here, I don’t know about that daughter of ours. Hey, Kafiya, it’s Geordi! Come here!”

A curtain of locs swung across the screen as Kafiya leaned into view. She smiled and gave a little wave before leaving as quickly as she’d arrived. Geordi had met his sister-in-law in person only a handful of times. She was unusually tall, darker than Geordi and his sister, a woman of few words. Geordi had liked her instantly.

“Nadifa’s somewhere around here, I guess she doesn’t want to talk to you— hey, she got the position she applied for, on the Atlantis project? She’s gonna be working with her mom.”

“That’s amazing!”

“I know! My parents and brother go off to space, my wife and daughter go to the bottom of the sea— don’t know why I’m the only reasonable person in the whole family.”

“Hey, I don’t think anyone who willingly spends their time teaching teenagers how to analyze poetry can be considered normal.”

“Honestly, you have a point there. Hey, let go of that.” Ariana pulled her braid out of Shidane’s mouth. “When are you gonna have some kids, Geordi? Look how much fun they are. You get to have drool all over your stuff.”

Geordi carried the subspace communicator from the living room to the kitchen. “If we do, they’re not gonna be the drooling kind. Half the point of making an android kid is avoiding stuff like that.”

“Just don’t make your baby smarter than Nadifa. My pride would never recover.”

Geordi settled at the kitchen table. “Hey Ari, that reminds me— can I tell you something kind of crazy? You have to promise not to freak out about it.”

Ariana raised an eyebrow. “That’s a big ask.”

Geordi entreated her with his eyes.

Her face softened and she shrugged. “Okay, fine, I promise. Tell me.”

Geordi held a deep breath. How should he approach this?

“Okay,” he began. “So, Data thinks he made a positronic brain that won’t collapse like Lal’s did.”

Ariana’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious? So you really are making a baby!”

“Well, no,” Geordi chewed on his lip. “I mean, yes, if he’s right, we could start working on a… on having a kid.”

“That’s great news, Geordi! You didn’t tell me it was the _good_ kind of crazy.”

Geordi gripped his hair in frustration. “No, no, that’s not what’s happening. Data made a brain, and he made a body to go with it. But it’s not a child, Ariana, he made it… he made it for me.”

Ariana’s expression was blank. Shidane cooed and waved a chubby arm at something outside of the viewscreen’s frame.

“What does that mean, he made it for you?”

The engineer sighed. “It’s theoretically possible to transfer a Human’s neural map to a synthetic brain. Partial transfers have been successful in the past. Basically, it means that he wouldn’t have to outlive me.”

Ariana squinted. “You’re saying… you’d scan your brain… and you’d put that scan into a fake brain.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that, but—”

“And that would make it so you’d never die.”

“I mean, theoretically. Yes.”

His sister nodded, very slowly. Her expression was one of deliberate calm. “Uh huh. Okay. So you would, uh… become an android. Like him.”

Geordi was beginning to seriously regret broaching the topic. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Is that something you two have talked about before?”

“Yeah, a few times. Nothing concrete.”

“I see.” Ariana looked contemplatively toward the roof of her porch. “I’m doing my best here, Geordi. I promised not to freak out.”

“I appreciate that.”

After a moment’s consideration, she nodded, as if reaching a private conclusion. “Okay. Let me ask one thing. Would you look like you? Or would I see you and go, ‘Oh god, what is that thing and what did it do with my big dumb brother?’”

Geordi slumped in the hard kitchen chair. “I mean, it could look like anything. But yeah, I think I’d make it look like me.”

His sister raised a mocking eyebrow. “You could even make it a little better-looking. A little younger.”

“Sure,” Geordi conceded, rolling his eyes. “Why not.”

“Interesting,” said Ariana. She bounced Shidane on her knee; the baby yawned expansively. “Okay then. In that case, you should do it.”

Geordi froze. “What?”

“You should do it! Data loves you. He’s kind, and constant, and he wants to be with you as long as possible. That makes you very lucky. So you should do it.”

Geordi was agog. “That’s— not really what I was asking!”

Ariana cradled the baby to her shoulder, patted his back. “Look, I’d be lying if I said the idea of my brother becoming an unkillable machine doesn’t irk me a little. But this isn’t about me, it’s about your partner inviting you never to leave his side. I think that’s an invitation worth considering.”

Geordi stared at his sister. “I… can’t believe how well you’re taking this.”

She shrugged. “I’m pretty fantastic.”

“I mean, I sure didn’t take it this well.”

“Oh yeah? What did you do?”

Geordi grimaced. “I… said some stuff I’m not proud of. He kinda sprang the whole thing on me, and I got scared. I think we’re okay now, but… it was a bad scene.”

“Hmm,” Ariana intoned. “Hey Kafiya, come take this baby away.” A pair of hands lifted Shidane off her shoulder. Ariana leaned into the communicator screen, cradling her chin in her hands. Her rings glinted in the warm light of the setting sun. “I’m sorry to hear that, Geordi. But I don’t think you can be blamed for reacting poorly.”

“Thanks.” Geordi’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Ari… it scared the hell out of me. It’s not that I don’t love him, or don’t want to be with him forever. I do. And frankly, having a stronger, faster, unaging body is a pretty attractive idea! But— god damn it, Ariana, it would be such a big deal. Such a big deal.” Tears welled in his eyes.

Ariana stroked a finger down the side of the screen in lieu of her brother’s face. “Hey, hey, everything’s okay. Nothing is really different. You’re okay.”

Geordi nodded, swallowed the lump in his throat. He hugged himself. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“You can take your time on this, right? There’s no rush?”

He shook his head. “There’s no rush. I have… basically up to the moment I die.”

Ariana sat back in the swing, grinning. “Then that’s great! Seems like a pretty sweet deal. You’ve got at least a couple more years to make a decision.”

Geordi winced.

Ariana pulled a face. “Oh, sorry— too harsh?”

“A little.”

She smiled. The sun had set, and she was backlit by the open screen door behind her. “Everything will be fine, Geordi. You have no problems, just big decisions.” She leaned out of view, peering into her house. “Oh look, Nadifa’s got dinner ready. You’ll have to talk to her next time. I hate to cut you off, but—”

Geordi waved a hand. “No no, it’s okay. Thanks for listening to me, I appreciate it. I love you.”

Ariana kissed her index finger and pressed it to the screen. “Love you, big dumb brother. Talk to you next week. Bye now.” The connection terminated.

Geordi let out a huge sigh. _No problems, just big decisions._ It all sounded so simple when Ariana said it like that. She was usually right, though— What did she always used to say? _Geordi, you need to get out of your own head._

He turned to appraise the empty house. There was Data’s violin on the coffee table. There on the mantle was his favorite holo image of Will, holding an enormous fish and grinning like an idiot. Antideuterium was licking herself in the window seat. Everything was as expected, everything was fine.

Geordi looked at himself in the black screen of the subspace communicator. There was his face, his eyes, the optical implants an unearthly blue. His hair, graying at the temples. He didn’t have a problem with the way he was aging— he was strong and healthy, and for that he was grateful. It was the contrast that bothered him. The sense that with each passing day, he was leaving Data behind, or the other way around. Like an awful, real-life version of Dorian Gray _._ It was no fun, being the painting.


	4. Continuity

Data returned in the late afternoon.

“Geordi, I have allocated a percentage of my processing power to analyzing your concerns regarding continuity of the self. If you are willing, I would like to engage you in a thought experiment on this topic.”

Geordi’s voice rang out from the bathroom. “I’m taking a piss, Data. Hold on.” After a moment he emerged. “Say what now?”

Data was lying on the couch, hands folded on his chest. He had shed the tweed jacket and boots, but the immaculate trousers remained. Anti was curled under the peak of his bent knees. “I said, I would like to speak with you about the concerns you expressed last night.”

Geordi settled onto the floor by the coffee table. Deut instantly materialized in his lap. “Okay, let’s do that.”

“If you will allow me to paraphrase, you said: ‘I do not know if it matters that my consciousness can be transferred to a synthetic body if I can not experience a sense of continuity.’ Is this statement accurate according to your recollection?”

Geordi picked up the masthead of the model boat he was assembling. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

Data nodded. “Please imagine the following: You are standing in a room. On the other side of the room, there is another you.”

“Hang on,” Geordi daubed glue onto the masthead. “Does it just look like me, or is it really me? Is this android Geordi La Forge?”

Data’s eyes were wide. “It is you.”

“...Okay,” Geordi looked sidelong at his beloved. “I’m imagining it.”

“You die.”

“Woah, what? What killed me?”

“Cause of death is immaterial in this scenario.”

“It’s material to me!”

“You are dead nonetheless. But, the other you is alive. He is there, on the other side of the room.”

Geordi slotted the masthead into the deck. “Don’t suppose you could have illustrated your point in a less morbid way.”

Data ignored him. “You have died, but you are also alive. Tell me, in this scenario, where is the discontinuity?”

Geordi planted his hands in the crook of his hips and gazed at the ceiling. “Okay. Okay. I take your meaning.” Deut hooked his claws into Geordi’s shirt, and he pushed the cat back into his lap. “You’re still missing my point.”

“Please, elucidate.”

Geordi shifted to face the couch. Deut mewled a complaint but did not relocate. “Data, imagine you’re in a room. Across the room, there’s another you.”

“I am imagining it.”

“You drop dead.”

“What has killed me?”

Geordi smiled. Data smiled.

“Come on now, listen to me. You drop dead, but the other you is fine. And you know what the other you does?”

“I do not.”

The engineer leaned forward, face a mask of terror. “He goes, ‘Oh my god! Good lord, what happened to him? He’s dead! Medical emergency on the bridge!’” Alarmed by the sudden theatrics, Deut raced out of the room.

Geordi sat back looking satisfied. “That’s what he does.”

“Hm,” said Data. “Hm. I take your meaning. It would be… a discomfiting scene to witness. But,” he raised an eyebrow, “your rebuttal does not illustrate discontinuity.”

Geordi was incredulous. “Data! What could be more discontinuous than watching yourself die?”

Data propped himself up on his arm. “The surviving ‘you’ can exit the room. He can rejoin the world. He will be greeted by his friends and loved ones. He will think the same thoughts you would have thought, say the same things you would have said. He will feel he is you. He _is_ you. Thus, you are alive. You have continued.” Anti curled into his chest and he stroked her plush fur.

Geordi rubbed a hand over his face. “What about you and Lore? You started from essentially the same place, and wound up very, very different. No one would say you’re the same person.”

“Lore does not possess any of the memories or experiences that have shaped my personhood _,_ nor I his. We are siblings, not copies, as dissimilar as you and Ariana.”

“Huh. Yeah, you’re right. That was a bad comparison.” Geordi leaned an elbow on the coffee table, displacing a minuscule rudder. “I guess… I’m not debating whether the ‘other me’ is really me. We agree on this; if your neural map was applied to a different brain in a different body, that would still be you.”

Data quirked an eyebrow in affirmation.

“Call me old-fashioned, Data, but it really boils down to… just not wanting to die. It’s all well and good that the ‘other me’ can walk out of the room and keep living. But I’m not in his shoes, I’m the one getting left behind. My life hasn’t been _saved_ , per se, just… preserved.”

Data looked faintly skeptical. “Once again, what you are attempting to describe bears more than passing resemblance to the concept of the soul.”

Geordi lifted a finger in protest, then lowered it. “I guess I don’t have a great rebuttal for that. Only I don’t mean _the soul_ in a spiritual sense.”

Data scratched Anti’s chin. Her purr mingled with the vibration of  Data’s subproccessing units . “ Perhaps ‘essence of selfhood’ is more apt  a term ?”

“Maybe. But I think it’s got to do with the body, too. It’s hard for me to imagine separating myself from… the physicality of me.”

“It is not difficult for me to imagine.”

Geordi hummed.  “I think that difference is why we’re having this conversation at all.”

They sat in contemplative silence. Through the front window, Geordi glimpsed a child racing a bicycle down the dirt road, closely pursued by a dog. It was an unusual sight in such a rural area. _New neighbors, maybe?_

Data sat up. “I am formulating a hypothesis.”

Geordi started from his reverie. “Oh yeah?”

“May I speak concretely?”

“Sure.”

“It may be possible to perform a neural map transfer at the moment of your death.”

Geordi smoothed a hand over his hair. “Okay. What would that accomplish?”

“I hypothesize that what you are afraid of in this context is not death, but a lack of connection to your original, organic body. If a live neural transfer was performed just as you were dying, you would retain the memory of what it was like to die. You would have a moment to look back on and identify as _the_ moment you were changed.” Data smoothed the front of his shirt. It was one of Geordi’s favorites; the broad-shouldered cut reminded him of the gold uniform days. “And perhaps, if there is such a thing as a soul, or essence, it would have a chance to… migrate as well.”

Geordi bit his lip. “That’s a pretty cute idea, Data.”

Data blinked. “Cute?”

“How feasible would that be? Performing a transfer on a dying brain sounds like risky business.”

“By the time you are dying, it is likely you will have suffered a great deal of neurological degeneration. Your neural map will need to be patched with information from prior scans.”

Geordi laughed weakly. “Great.”

Data shrugged. It was a precise, practiced movement. “It is an imperfect solution. However I believe it is one worth exploring, if you are disposed to do so.”

Slouching, Geordi rested his head in his hand and observed his partner. Perfect posture. A shaft of afternoon light crossed his face, synthetic skin glimmering faintly gold.

“You’re very beautiful.”

Data’s placid expression did not falter. “I find you quite aesthetically pleasing, as well, Geordi.”

_I love you,_ thought the engineer. “Data, when we thought you were going to die in San Francisco, you told me you were fine with your death. That mortality lends life meaning. What happens if I give that up?”

The android frowned  thoughtfully. “Then I suppose we  would have to invent meaning, together.”

Geordi leaned back on his hands. Data had been discovered by chance in the ruins of a home he could not remember, and had fallen in with the first strangers who showed him any kindness. He knew exactly who had created him and why, and was obliged to cope with that knowledge, however inadequate it may be. Who then, Geordi thought, was a greater master at inventing meaning than Data?

He smiled. “Sounds good to me.”


	5. What an artificial body can do

It was night. They were fucking. Beads of sweat trickled down Geordi’s back as he thrust in between Data’s legs, fingertips digging into his pale hips. Data stroked himself at a leisurely pace.

“Data, I’m— _huh_ — losing steam,” Geordi panted. “How close are you?”

“I have yet to reach the threshold of arousal after which I may trigger an orgasm.”

Geordi’s pace flagged. “Really?”

Data’s expression was impassive.

“Maybe we should change position...”

Data did not believe their position was the issue. He had an idea. It would be high-risk, high-reward. After a moment’s assessment, he made his opening move:

“Geordi, what is it like to have intercourse with an android?”

His lover looked at him askance. “Uh. It’s good? I’m definitely a fan.”

“Explain the experience in detail. How does it differ from sex with an organic partner?”

Geordi readjusted his grip on Data’s hips, took a breath. “Well. The climax situation is different. And you don’t really ‘lose control’ in the way non-synthetic beings sometimes do. Why are you quizzing me?”

“Your description does not make it sound very appealing.”

Geordi made an affronted noise. “I’m trying to fuck you, Data, and you’re making me give a book report! It’s fantastic, okay? Fucking you, getting fucked by you— I love it. You’re very sexy. It’s nice that you’re so strong and can go a long time, even if you don’t always—” he grunted in exertion— “seem to pull your weight.”

Data stopped touching himself altogether. “Ah. Greater endurance is a highlight of sex with an artificial being.”

Geordi had a sneaking suspicion he was being baited into something. “Yeah. That’s _one_ of the things I said.”

“Have you considered how pleasurable it might be to have sex with an artificial being, if you were also one such being?”

Geordi came to a full stop. Data gazed placidly at his lover, who fixed him in turn with the calculating eyes of an apex predator.

“Actually,” said Geordi, carefully. “The thought may have crossed my mind.”

Data continued. “If you had an artificial body, you would never grow fatigued. You would have nearly limitless endurance. And you would be stronger.” His yellow eyes glinted in the low light. “As I am.”

“Would I also be an insufferable layabout in bed?”

Data did not dignify that with an answer.

“Is that something you really want? To get railed for hours?”

Data spread his hands. “I do not know. I could not possibly speculate on something so far removed from anything I have previously experienced.”

Geordi seethed. No one would believe the kind of shit he had to put up with. “Okay. Okay. This is what we’re doing right now? You’re taking it this far?”

“Taking what how far, Geordi?”

The engineer leaned over, retrieved a tool from the bedside table. “You know, Data, strength and endurance aren’t the end-all be-all.” Reinserting himself, he began to grind into the android, deliberate and slow. “Sometimes all it takes— is an expert touch.”

A short, low whimper escaped Data’s throat. _Finally_.

Geordi grinned. He dug his thumbs into Data’s abdomen, popping apart the bioplast skin. With one deft motion, he uncoupled the first few connection points of the abdominal panels’ seam. Data writhed in anticipation, moved to uncouple the remaining connection points himself, but Geordi pushed his hands away.

“You’re always trying to do my work for me. Don’t.”

Geordi clicked him open, inch by inch. He parted the soft walls of Data’s stomach, the now-exposed silicone abdominal wall quivered and flexed. Geordi unhooked the sheet of muscle and draped it to the side, gazed appreciatively at the trembling mass of Data’s arterial tubing as his hydraulic heart pumped at double speed.

“You’re beautiful.”

Data opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“You know, I retract my previous statement. About how you never lose control?” Geordi's voice was low and dangerous. He slipped a hand between the smooth casings of Data’s stomach and biofluid reservoir. The hydraulic heart pumped at an even faster clip. “I wrote the book on you, baby. I know how to make you scream.”

Data collected himself long enough to gasp, “I do not wish to wait any longer. Please, Geordi, do not make me.” His voice peaked and dipped in mechanical distortion.

Geordi’s arm disappeared inside Data up to the elbow. He stroked the lungs in his chest, ran his fingers along Data’s duranium ribs from the inside. Data’s thighs gripped painfully tight around him as he unplugged the multiphasic wiring from a bay of subprocessors and swapped them into a different grouping of subprocessors. Data’s yellow eyes went in and out of focus, and he gave a long, low, garbled moan.

Geordi ground harder into the him. When he spoke, his voice was ragged. “I have a question for _you_ , now, Data,” he panted. “If I fucked you with an android body—”

Data was far beyond speaking. His hydraulic heart was pumping biofluid faster than he had the processing power to calculate. The servos in his hands twitched weakly, grasped the air, his eyes flitted wildly over Geordi’s body. The engineer leaned in close to his lover’s face. Deep inside Data’s body, his hand closed around his spinal cord.

“Do you think you could handle it?”

The android’s neural net blanked. The whirring of Data’s thoracic fans built to a scream. He cried out, and the sound came not from his parted lips but deep in his chest. His voice stuttered into tinny fragments, the vowels of his lover’s name warped and distorted beyond recognition. Data’s back arched— bucked— Geordi thrust hard, again, and again— and Data’s face went entirely vacant. His arms fell uselessly to his sides. Geordi curled over Data’s open body, shuddering through his own orgasm. Then Data’s voice cut out completely. And there was silence.

Cheek pressed against the synthetic skin of his chest, Geordi listened to Data’s thoracic fans slowly returning to their normal whirring purr. He lifted himself onto his elbows, and with shaking hands, switched the multiphasic wiring to its proper configuration. Data’s eyes were open, staring blankly at the ceiling.

_SOONG-TYPE POSITRONIC ANDROID MARK 4.1 MODEL NAME DATA ACTIVATION DATE 02 02 2338 ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE,_ he thought.

“Hey,” Geordi whispered. “Hey, I didn’t break you, did I?” There was a long moment. Geordi bit his lip. Then the yellow eyes snapped into focus.

“Geordi,” Data’s soft voice sounded like a reunion. “I... am functioning within normal parameters.”

Geordi kissed his pale lips. He closed up his lover’s body, tenderly; Data trembled as hands grazed his silicone intestines.

“That was good for you?” Geordi didn’t really need to ask.

“It was… intensely pleasurable. As always.” Data took Geordi by the hands, pulled him down to lay on his chest once more. He was still hard, as often happened in such circumstances. “I hope that I have not offended you.”

Geordi laughed hoarsely into Data’s neck. “That’s okay, buddy. You knew what you wanted and you knew how to get it out of me. It was a dicey move, though.”

Data nuzzled Geordi’s hair. “I assessed the wager to be worthwhile."

“Uh huh. What are we going to do about this?” Geordi asked, palming Data’s cock.

Data raised an eyebrow. “You appear extremely fatigued, Geordi.”

“Not _extremely_ ,” Geordi lied.

Data considered his lover’s face, searched his synthetic eyes. “If that is the case—” Data pushed Geordi off his chest with just a bit more strength than strictly necessary, dropped him back onto the bed and kneed his legs apart.

“Allow me to show you what an artificial body can do.”

Exhausted, grinning, Geordi let him.


	6. Honey

_I knew you before the west was won  
And I heard you say the past  
Was much more fun  
You go your way, I go mine  
But I'll see you next time _

– _BNL_

Geordi woke up alone, save for a couple of warm lumps curled in the crook of his knees. To Geordi’s chagrin Data sometimes allowed his core to overheat for the cats’ thermal benefit, and in the absence of their personal space heater, they were forced to settle for the organic alternative— any port in a storm. Geordi nudged them away and stretched. Crisp morning light poured through the gauzy curtains, foretelling a stunningly beautiful day, and he had a feeling he knew exactly where his partner could be found.

Clad in a thin sweater to ward off the dewy coolness of morning, Geordi mounted the hill beyond the barn. As he crested the top, Data’s head and shoulders came into view, then the rest of him, attending to a bee box with a couple of dripping frames propped against its side. He wore only a linen shirt and plain trousers, and his skin crawled with dozens of honeybees.

“You’re getting swarmed, Data.” Geordi called from a safe distance away.

“Ah, Geordi.” Data looked up from the frame he was inspecting. “This is hardly a swarm. The hive is quite relaxed this morning.” He blinked as a bee walked boldly across the inner corner of his eye.

To Geordi’s implants, the insects looked like itinerant electrons lazily orbiting the nucleus of Data’s positronic brain. “How’s it look in there?”

“The queen is exhibiting some atypical behaviors. I fear she may not survive the winter.”

Geordi made mittens of his sweater sleeves. “Oh. Not good. Can I take a peek?”

Data tossed him a veiled beekeeper’s hat. He pulled it over his head, approached the box and peered into the spot left empty by the frames Data had removed. Hundreds of little golden bodies buzzed and jostled, seeming to emanate warmth in the chill atmosphere. Their vibration created staticky feedback patterns in Geordi’s vision.

With a pale finger Data indicated the queen among the throng, marked by a dot of green paint on her thorax. “Observe her sluggish movement, and how her wings have become dull and ragged.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Data’s brow furrowed pensively. “She is only four months old. Queens of this variety typically last a year or more. Hm.” He drew a finger across a frame oozing with honey, tasted it. “Slightly higher glucose levels than last year’s yield. And— a marginal overrepresentation of butanoic acid.”

Geordi took a sample as well. “Tastes like honey to me.” He leaned closer into the box, peered at the queen with her little green dot. She did seem sluggish.

Data leaned too, and a half dozen bees circled off of him. “I can detect no other issues in the hive or its environs— I do not know what I have done wrong.”

“It might not be anything you did.” As Geordi turned to look at his partner their heads nearly knocked together. A bee crept undaunted across his veil. “Sometimes things just die.”

Data frowned, gave a little shake of the head. “I am not so sure.”

“If I were a gambling man,” Geordi encircled Data’s waist with one arm, careful not to crush any errant insects. “I’d bet Candace has another queen for you.” Candace Caldera, PhD: head of the biology department and Data’s fellow recreational apiarist.

“That is likely the case.” Data rested a hand on the corner of the box. “Nevertheless, I would prefer not to part with Ms. Green at so premature a juncture.”

“Feeling sentimental?”

Data observed a bee crawl onto his thumb and across his wrist. “All life is worthy of preservation, Geordi.”

_All life._ Geordi was reminded of Spot’s last moments among the living. She’d died on the Enterprise in Data’s arms, a very old, decrepit, and thoroughly spoiled cat. Beverly said Data had cradled the little body in his arms for hours, stroking her fur, explaining he wished to watch her pass from pallor to algor to rigor mortis. Tasha, Lal, Spot— Geordi had been away on assignment and would never forgive himself for missing Data’s third big heartbreak. Not that Data would characterize the loss that way.

Geordi squeezed him. “I’m sure you’re right, buddy. Now, come inside. This breeze is cutting right through me.”

Data packed the box away, not before Geordi snagged a second taste of honey. They meandered down the hill arm in arm, and Geordi felt an unusual intensity of heat emanating from Data’s core. Maybe the old space heater trick wasn’t so bad, after all. As they approached the house, bees lit away from Data one by one.

“We received a subspace communique from the Crushers early this morning; they are in the system and would like to visit tonight. I have already sent a reply— _pah,_ _”_ Data puffed a bee off his upper lip. “—I have already replied in the affirmative.”

_Speak of the devil._ Geordi’s face split with delight. “Beverly and Wes! Fantastic. They’re on Luna, I’m guessing?”

“Yes, visiting Wesley’s paternal grandmother. I invited them to spend the night here rather than make the trip twice in a day.”

“Fantastic,” Geordi repeated. “It’s been— oh— too many years.”

“Would you like to know exactly how many?”

“No, thanks.”

The warmth of the kitchen embraced them. Data set about making a pot of coffee, and Geordi settled at the kitchen table with a sigh.

An important lesson he had learned over the years was that long-term romance had seasons _._ Some days, looking at his partner’s face was about as thrilling as staring at a wall. Others, it was as if they were as giddily in love as the first weeks of their relationship. If Geordi were to categorize how he felt that morning, watching Data move around the kitchen with a crumb of honeycomb stuck to one sleeve, a sliver of waist exposed as he reached for a high cupboard, he would say: _mid-spring._

“You know, Geordi, you are allowed to become sick of me.”

“Wha— huh?” Geordi fumbled to accept the steaming mug Data pressed into his hand.

Data sat across from him with a cup of tea. “You are allowed to become sick of me. I do not expect you to find me consistently interesting or pleasant to be around.”

Geordi reminded himself that Deanna was the one who could read his mind, not Data. He laughed. “Of course I get sick of you! You get sick of me, too. But you know what happens? You disappear into your office, I go mope around mine, and in a couple of days you miss me _so_ _much_ you throw yourself at me like a— like a— a film noir heroine.”

Data raised his cup, all but his eyes obscured by steam. “Your recollection of past events is heavily skewed.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Under the table, Geordi bumped his knee against Data’s. “But you know… I’d rather spend time with you than do pretty much anything else. So… don’t worry about it.”

This earned Geordi a tiny smile. “I am pleased to report the feeling is mutual. But,” Data continued, “that is not precisely what I meant. Rather, in the grand scheme of our relationship, it is important to me that you feel free to pursue any avenue of interest to you, whether I am invited along or not. If you wished to take on a project off-world, for example.”

Geordi looked slightly askance. “I mean, sure, we’ve been down this road before. In fact we’ve already lived that scenario, when I was assigned to Sadr Prime.” He shuddered to recall the dark interior of the industrial station on which he had lived and worked from ‘74 to ‘75, the unsmiling faces of his Sadrienne colleagues, his narrow bunk which felt perpetually damp to the touch. Nightly subspace calls with a rotating cast of friendly faces from the Enterprise were the only thing that prevented him from falling apart completely. The long assignment had been a horrible wedding present, but it had brought certain things into focus. “I think that pretty well soured me on the whole ‘living apart’ thing.”

“That was… an unpleasant period. But consider, Geordi, if we had potentially unlimited time together,” Data gave his partner a pointed look, “you may find you wish to explore a multitude of possibilities. A multitude of intellectual endeavors, of career opportunities, of people—”

“People!” Geordi sat back in surprise. “Data, you’re making me nervous. I’ve never felt… _restricted_ by our relationship, and I don’t see that changing even if I— if I decided to go through with the plans we’ve been discussing lately. As far as this multitude of people you’re talking about— it’s not that I’m against— you know, that could be fine, but it’s really not something I’m interested in right now. If _you_ , though, if there was someone—”

“There is no ‘someone.’ I am satisfied with you.”

Geordi rubbed a hand over his face. “Well in that case, why are we talking about this?”

Data spread his hands on the table and appraised them. “You do not feel restricted by our current arrangement?”

“No! I feel. I feel _settled_. It’s different. I’m happy as we are, and I’d tell you if that changed. The future with you, no matter what shape it takes… it’s not something I’m worried about.”

This appeared to satisfy Data. Geordi released an exasperated breath. Through the open kitchen window came a bark and the rattle of a bicycle chain, girlish laughter trailing away down the road.

Data perked at the sound. “New neighbors?”

“I think so.”

The future with Data wasn’t the problem. The future in _general_ was the problem. Geordi did not look forward to death, of course, but it did offer some perverse assurance. The vastness of eternal life was terrifying; if he thought about it too seriously, panic would begin to rise in his chest. Then again, Data was already staring down the barrel of that reality, and didn’t Geordi want to stay by his partner’s side through all of it? Unless somewhere along the line, they split up for good. He nearly aspirated his coffee.

Geordi reached across the table and took Data’s hand. “Listen, I know what this is about, and I need you to know that it’s okay. If you want to run away with Dr. Caldera and raise bees on some distant moon, if that’s really what will make you happy— far be it from me to stop you.”

Data looked briefly confused, then raised a wry eyebrow. “Have you ever been informed that you possess an incredible knack for comedy?”

Geordi grinned. “Never.”

They finished their drinks in companionable silence.


	7. Unambiguously Human

Data had made all the necessary preparations for the Crushers’ arrival. That meant that when Geordi returned from his classes that afternoon, they would have several free hours alone. There would be just enough time, he reasoned.

Standing at the sink, he pried open the panel above his right ear with a plastate thumbnail and used a pair of tweezers to insert the chip into a hairline slot at his temple. The mirror shone the flashing lights of his exterior brain casing all around the room.

He observed his reflection: it was the same as it always was. He glanced at the envelope which had housed the chip, and the book sitting on the edge of the sink into which the envelope had been tucked: Asimov’s _Robot Dreams_. Geordi must have thought it was an ironic choice. Data felt compelled to roll his eyes, but did not— already the chip was beginning to take effect. He closed the panel.

Data walked down the hallway and, as he observed the wallpaper there, the chip fed him emotional confirmation of what he already suspected: they should have gone with the floral option. He walked to the kitchen, put the kettle on the stove, then sat on the couch and waited for his water to boil.

As Geordi pedaled his way home, he could hear the kettle screaming from all the way down the road. Abandoning his bicycle in the grass, he rushed into the house and shouted over the din: “Data! What the hell is going on?”

The moment he stepped into the living room, he knew. Data was hunched over the coffee table, face contorted in a grimace. _You have got to be kidding me._

Geordi raced to take the kettle off the burner and breathed a sigh of relief as the screaming died away. He wheeled on the twisted figure: “Data, what were you doing? That was awful.”

A pair of yellow eyes snapped to his face. “Geordi. I apologize. I became absorbed in the sound of the tea kettle whistling. It was incredibly unpleasant.”

Geordi did his best to tamp down the annoyance rising in his chest. “Yeah, no kidding. So, today is the day we take the chip for a spin, huh? You remember, right, that we have guests coming soon?”

“I am certain there is adequate time. Geordi, have you ever been scalded by boiling water? I wonder what my response would be, if I were scalded.”

_Be cool, La Forge._ “If I can help it, you’ll never know. Listen, why don’t we do a nicer experiment. Find out how you’d react if, uh...” He glanced at the cats, who had sought refuge from the offensive noise under an ottoman. “If Deut and Anti both jumped on your lap at once. Something nice. And _safe_.”

A vacantly cheerful expression replaced the grimace on Data’s face. “Ah. That would be very nice.” He blinked as if in sudden realization. “You are home earlier than scheduled. Why?”

Making the best of things, Geordiwithdrew to the kitchen to make tea.“Would you believe it if I told you a fire started up in the hydroponics annex? A real, genuine fire, in the wettest building we have.Whole campus got evacuated; a little over-cautious maybe— they’ll have to inspect the fire suppression systems in every building.” When he turned back to the living room, he almost dropped both mugs.

Data’s face was riven in fear. “You could have been burned. Crushed by falling debris.” His voice was strained.

Geordi hurried to reassure him. “No! No, the fire was nowhere near me. There was no chance.” He crouched at Data’s feet, handed him a mug. “No chance at all. Drink your tea, Data.”

The android followed his orders. Geordi leaned his head on his fist. Data had not used the chip in a long time— historically, it had been a special-occasion thing, something to do for fun. Did Data like the taste of cucumbers, or the smell of Hassalian bark soap? They would find out, together. Geordi could not fathom why Data chose this moment to break his streak. But he had, and there was no way Geordi was going to let him go it alone.

“How do you feel?”

Data smiled through the steam rising from his mug, a refreshingly normal Data smile. “I feel— warmth. It is extremely pleasant.”

“Good tea will do that to a person.”

“The pleasant sensation is not owed to the tea. I began feeling this way the moment you came home.”

Geordi flushed. It really was hard to stay upset with Data. “I’m happy to see you, too, buddy. Listen— you can do whatever you want, but I’m curious. Why now? Of all the days?”

Data set his mug down, looking very serious. “In light of recent events, I fear I have given you the mistaken impression that I am dissatisfied with you as you exist currently. Nothing could be further from the truth. I inserted the chip because I wish to express to you, in unambiguously Human, emotional terms, exactly how I feel about you.”

The engineer’s eyebrows hit the ceiling. “Oh. Alright. I’m… ready to hear it.”

Data took his hands. “I can say without qualification that the fervency with which I adore you is incalculable. Geordi, I love you.”

Geordi’s eyes could not be wider. His voice was hushed, wavering: “Oh, Data… say it again.”

But Datadid not, because in a fraction of a second he was crushing his lips against Geordi’s. Geordi fell backward onto the rug, and Data went after him.

They kissed and Data pawed at Geordi’s clothes. A low whine built in his throat, and he ground himself against his beloved. “I feel— desire. I want you.”

In spite of himself, Geordi felt a little scandalized. Data initiated sex plenty often, but never like this. “Well, good news,” he gasped, “I’m yours for the taking.”

It was all the permission Data needed. In an instant he had Geordi’s shirt open, made quick work of his belt, tossed his crisp suit jacket and trousers unceremoniously across the room. Geordi undressed his partner with much less grace. He caught a glimpse of dilated pupils before Data descended on him, mouthed his way down his quivering abdominal muscles. Fire coursed from Geordi’s loins to his chest as Data nipped at his ribs.

He took Geordi into his mouth. He licked around the base of his cock, sucked at the tip; Geordi moaned and shuddered and clawed at the rug and Data’s hair. Datarose up long enough to gasp, “You are, subjectively, perfect in every way.” And he dove back onto Geordi, licking hotly at his groin, fingers digging into the meat of his hips.

“P— perfect!” Geordi panted, pelvis arching out of his control. “That’s— that’s funny.”

Data’s brow creased but he did not cease his frantic ministrations.

Geordi’s chest heaved. “You don’t wish I was— I don’t know— taller?”

Cock in mouth, Data shook his head. _No._

“Thinner?”

Data sucked and groaned. _No._

“More— _huh—_ classically handsome?”

_No._ Data licked a stripe of inner thigh . _No._

“How about thirty years younger?”

Data sat up. He stared at Geordi and looked truly, genuinely disgusted. There was venom in his voice. “I do not.”

Geordi couldn’t help himself. “Really? There’s nothing at all you’d change? Even as I get older and nastier and—”

He stopped himself. In contrast to just a moment prior, Data was looking at him with arresting tenderness.

“I am inorganic, and have no biological reason to be repulsed by signs of aging,” Data said, voice warmer than Geordi had ever heard it. “Moreover: I am here for _you_ , Geordi. And everything that being with _you_ means.” And he covered Geordi’s mouth with his, so he could protest no more.

Geordi decided today had been the perfect day for the emotion chip, after all.

Data broke the kiss with a frustrated growl. “It is not possible to touch you as much as I need to touch you, nor speak the words I must speak to you; I am limited by—”

“Hey, hey, slow down.” Geordi grasped Data around the waist. “We’re in no rush. We can take it one thing at a time. What do you want _most_ right now?”

Data’s eyes darted in thought. He nudged a knee between Geordi’s thighs. “May I—?”

“Yes,” Geordi inhaled, a thrill racing up his spine. “Please.”

Data licked his fingers and used his silicone-derived saliva to begin working Geordi open. The engineer moaned and grazed his teeth over Data’s neck. His lover bit back— _hard_. Geordi sucked air through his teeth and wondered how high the collar of his shirt would have to be that night.

He breathed into Data’s ear. “More.”

Data pressed deeper inside. His yellow eyes were wild and a little haunted. Geordi could not imagine what he must be feeling, did not want to ask and risk breaking the spell. Data pressed and stroked, Geordi grasped at his ass and thighs, the bioplast flesh as soft and yielding as it had been the first time he felt it two decades prior. He felt a little throb of pride in his own stewardship.

Data positioned himself between Geordi’s legs, a question written on his face. Geordi replied, _yes._ He clutched at the leg of the coffee table as Data pushed into him, and electricity coursed through him, seemed to travel into Data, too. The sound of his ventilation system working quadruple time reminded Geordi of the shrieking tea kettle. Data gritted his teeth— in angst or determination, Geordi could not say—and slammed into his lover, bumping the coffee table and sending their cups of tea spiraling across the rug. Burning liquid splashed over their legs. Geordi glimpsed two black and white shapes streak from under the ottoman and out of the room. Data sat up and hooked an arm under Geordi’s leg, using it as leverage as he pounded into him. Geordi was flooded with waves of ecstatic pain as Data pushed the limits of his tolerance, jerking him off with his free hand— he had not been ravaged like this in years. He dug his fingers into the rug and let it wash over him.

A sound pulled Geordi from his reverie. He felt Data’s abdomen quiver in odd syncopation— _what the hell?_ He fought to prop himself on an elbow as Data continued to rail him. The second he saw the android’s face, he couldn’t believe he had struggled to place the sound. Data was laughing.

It was wildly unbeautiful laughter, ridiculous, unrestrained, unselfconscious in a way Geordi had only ever witnessed in Data. It was marvelous.

Geordi began to laugh, himself. “Baby, I say this with love— you have got the absolute goofiest laugh I’ve ever heard.”

Through a face twisted with mirth, Data spoke. “I have been told it is jarring!” He threw his head back and howled.

It was simultaneously deeply unsexy and a spectacle that Geordi could not possibly look away from. He came ribbons onto Data’s pale stomach, and Data triggered his own orgasm and laughed and laughed.

Geordi writhed with overstimulation. He pulled himself off of Data, sat up on trembling arms to embrace his shaking partner. They knelt and swayed a little together, and as long minutes passed, the laughter became lower, more wretched. Geordi felt warm droplets on his shoulder. He leaned away to cradle Data’s face in his hands. Tears streamed from his eyes, yellow and opaque.

This was what Geordi had been afraid of. As Data’s brain processed years of emotional metadata through the chip, the resulting backlog had to go somewhere. “Hey, what’s wrong? A minute ago, you were having the time of your life.”

“Geordi, I feel— nostalgic. I miss the VISOR. It suited you.” Data drew in a shuddering breath.

“Oh, yeah?” Geordi smiled. “You’re lucky your nose doesn’t have a permanent dent from all the times we knocked heads with that thing on. If you miss it so much, I can go get it.”

Data’s wet eyes widened in surprise. “I did not realize you knew I kept the VISOR.”

“Of course I know. It’s in your bedside table. I guess you must love me, or something.”

Data blinked away fat tears. “Yes, I do. I love you.”

Geordi kissed his forehead. “I was worried you were sad about something serious. But that’s a pretty sweet reason to have your first cry in years.”

“This is not the first. I cried earlier today.”

“What? Why?”

“I stepped on a broken tile in the bathroom. I sought comfort from Anti, but she would not allow me to hold her.”

Geordi’s heart throbbed. “Oh my god, baby. Come here.”

With effort, he stood and led Data to the couch. They curled into a blanket and Geordi pet Data’s untidy hair as yellow tears pooled between their bodies. The late afternoon sun cast the dappled shadows of willow trees across the living room.

“Oh. Data.” Geordi blinked back to reality. “We have guests coming soon.” He took in the jostled furniture and overturned mugs. “And we have a little cleaning to do.”

Data wiped his tear-stained face, lips pursed grimly. “I do not think the situation is salvageable,” he said, pointing to the rug. It was soaked with tea and come and mustardy biofluid slowly seeping into its fibers.

Geordi shook his head. “Shame. I liked that one.”

“Would you rather have an unspoiled carpet than intercourse with me?”

Geordi pressed one last hot kiss to Data’s neck. “No way.”

He crouched and began rolling up the rug as Data dragged the coffee table across the room. They shoved the ruined carpet behind the couch, to be dealt with at a later date. One end of the roll stuck out conspicuously.

Data gave a dubious hum. “Wesley will be sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Geordi kicked their discarded clothes into a pile. “Wes won’t suspect a thing. Come on, get in the shower with me.”

They ascended the stairs.

“Will you assist me in removing the chip?”

“Of course, pal.”

“Ah—” Data paused mid-step, turned back to face him. “That reminds me. I must inform you of three things.”

Geordi looked up at him, hand on the banister. “Go ahead.”

“First, regarding the wallpaper in the upstairs hallway: I hate it. Second, regarding your office: it is disgusting. Please clean it. Third, regarding _Robot Dreams:_ you are not as clever as you believe yourself to be.”

The sting of Data’s words settled into Geordi slowly. He nodded. “You know what? Fair on all points. Can the office wait until tomorrow?”

“Certainly.”

Geordi gave Data’s buttocks a playful swat, and they raced to the bathroom, two stairs at a time.


	8. The Palace of Versailles

As the sun disappeared behind the horizon, there came a knock at the door. The moment Data opened it Beverly was upon him.

“Data! I can hardly believe it’s you!” She hugged him tightly around the neck.

His smile was barely visible through her mess of red and silver waves. “I am pleased to see you, too, Doctor.”

“Hey there, Commander!” Appearing in the doorway, Wesley leaned around his mother to grasp Data’s arm. “You haven’t changed a bit!”

“I can not say the same for you, Wesley. It seems you have transformed into a fully grown adult.”

Wesley laughed, and petted his beard bashfully.

“Is there a doctor in the house?” Geordi’s voice rang out from the stairwell.

From over Data’s shoulder, Beverly called, “Geordi La Forge! I’m going to have to take a look at those implants of yours!”

“Not a chance!” Geordi appeared at Data’s side. “God, you two are a sight for sore eyes. No pun intended. Wes, how the hell old are you now?”

“Forty-one!”

“And how old were you when the beard finally filled out?”

Wesley rolled his eyes, but grinned. “It’s heartening to know you haven’t gotten any funnier since the last time I saw you. Or ever.”

Geordi matched his grin. They embraced.

“Can I put this down somewhere?” Wesley asked, holding aloft a bottle of wine. Geordi wrapped an arm around Wesley and led him to the kitchen.

Beverly held Data around the waist and rested her head on his shoulder. She peered around him into the living room, warmly lit by a crackling fire. “Oh, this is so nice, Data. Very _you_.”

“I will take your observation as a compliment on my taste in interior decor. Thank you.”

Beverly gazed into Data’s face, stroked his cheek with an elegant hand. “Wes is right. You really haven’t changed in the slightest. Well, except for that hint of gray.” She smiled wryly, and the corners of her eyes wrinkled in charming fashion. “I bet I look pretty different than how you remember me.”

Data brushed a strand of silver hair from her face, gave a tiny shake of the head. “No, Doctor. I would know you in a heartbeat.”

She bit back a sob, and buried her face in his chest.

As the Martian sky turned inky black, the little cottage buzzed with joyous activity. Wesley and Data sat at the kitchen table, nearly bumping skulls as Wesley showed off a prototype handheld electromagnetic confinement accelerator, and Beverly and Geordi were attached at the hip as they put entirely unnecessary finishing touches on a replicated dinner of scallops and salad.

Beverly popped a slice of radish into her mouth. “You know, I’m glad you got old, too, Geordi. For a moment I was a little scared I was the only one.”

“Excuse you! I didn’t get old. I got distinguished.”

Wesley grimaced. “Please, Mom, don’t start. You’re gonna make _me_ feel old.”

Geordi and Beverly glanced at one another, and burst into laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

Data placed a hand on Wesley’s wrist. “In their eyes, you will always be the baby of the family.”

Wesley popped an eyebrow. “What about in yours, Data?”

“Hm.” Data considered a moment. “The beard has complicated my perception of you. But, I believe I will always see you as the baby, as well.”

Geordi hung onto Beverly and cackled.

“Is your grandmother in good health?”

“Oh, she’s fine.” Wesley rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s always nice to see her. She’s _really_ proud that I made Lieutenant Commander. Like, made me wear my uniform around the house levels of pride.”

“Wes!” Geordi snapped to attention. “I had no idea you were promoted! Congratulations.”

“Oh, yeah, a little while ago. Mom, aren’t you supposed to brag about me to all the Enterprise gang?”

“You can do that well enough yourself, dear.” She sat next to her son. “Geordi, let’s open up that wine.”

Geordi inspected the label. “This isn’t a Chateau Picard, is it?”

“Absolutely not. We replicated it at my mother in law’s house.”

“My favorite vintage.” He poured glasses for the four of them.

“Mom’s moving up in the world, too. You’re looking at the Senior Director of Starfleet Medical’s neurology department.”

“Ah, yes. We received word of your assignment via the Federation subspace bulletin. Very impressive.”

“Thank you, Data, thank you.” Beverly gave a mock bow. “It’s a good position. Although now that I see the way you two live, retirement is starting to look pretty appealing. How’s the community theater scene in this area?”

Data’s eyes flashed. “It is robust.”

“No, no, we’re not doing this tonight,” Geordi interjected. “You’ll give me _Pirates_ flashbacks. That traumatized me, Beverly.” He started handing out plates.

“Oh hush, you gave a wonderful performance.” She pursed her lips and shot Data a meaningful look. Data made no comment.

Wesley cleared the table of accelerator parts, Geordi sat, and they began to eat.

“So, if memory serves, you two celebrated a pretty significant anniversary recently. Did you do anything special to celebrate?”

Geordi glanced at Data. Data’s focus switched rapidly between Geordi, Beverly, Wesley, Beverly, Geordi, Beverly, Wesley, Bev—

“Uh,” Geordi blinked. “No, not really.” He pressed his hand in what he hoped was a casual way to his bitten neck, shrouded in a sweater.

“Oh!” Beverly’s tone was light, but she gave Geordi a wicked smile. “In that case, allow us to celebrate with you now.” She raised her glass of wine. “To fifteen years of— uh— routine maintenance.”

Geordi spluttered into his glass. Wesley’s jaw dropped and he elbowed his mother, who elbowed him right back. Stony-faced, Data lifted his chardonnay, toasted with Beverly, and drank. The doctor laughed uproariously.

There were years and years of missed memories to share. Data recalled the time the O’Brien clan had visited, and Miles nearly crashed into the barn showing Yoshi how to pilot their antique shuttlecraft. Wesley told of his adventures aboard the USS Resolution but remarked wistfully that nothing compared to his time on the Enterprise, nor did Captain Vangelos hold a candle to Picard. Beverly bullied Geordi into belting out a few lines of “Modern Major-General,” and made a valiant effort not to openly laugh at the result. At some point a second bottle of wine was opened— Wesley’s beard did nothing to obscure the pinkness of his cheeks, and the three grown-ups at the table were kind enough not to tease him about it.

When Lieutenant Commander Crusher was inebriated enough to start complaining about his hapless romantic endeavors, Geordi waved him into the living room: _Come talk to the heartbreak expert, Wes. Now tell me, can you think of any close friends you might have_ _unresolved romantic tension with?_

As Data cleared the dishes away, he caught the doctor gazing into the bottom of her glass.

“Beverly, are you well?”

She smiled warmly. “Honestly, I’m completely exhausted, but I’m too happy to say good night. I wish we didn’t have to leave so soon.” Her eyes brightened. “Say, Data, won’t you take a walk with me?”

He cast a skeptical glance toward the blackened window. “It is quite dark.”

“You expect me to believe you don’t have a flashlight around here somewhere?”

Of course they had one. In fact, they had a rather slick solar-powered lantern which, as Data and Beverly walked down the porch steps, enveloped them in a bubble of warmly suffused light.

Data pondered which of 28 possible routes would be most appropriate for a nighttime stroll. “Let us walk to the pond.”

She grasped his arm. “Lead the way.”

They walked down front path to the road, and when they reached the ditch that ran alongside it, Beverly skipped over it with ease.

“You are as graceful as ever, Doctor.”

“I’m only sixty-five, Data. I’ve got some dancing years ahead of me, yet.”

The walked for some time through the meadow, arm in arm, listening to the crickets. When they reached the pond, they settled onto a fallen log. Beverly hugged herself, her gauzy blouse offering poor protection from the chill night air. Data took off his cardigan and wrapped it around her.

“Oh, look at the stars! Hang on, I need to orient myself— yes, that would be Terra and Luna, where we were just a few hours ago, and— I forget what the moons are called here.”

“The one visible to us now is Phobos.”

“Ah, that’s right. Not the best visibility, eh?”

“No. There are few planets with as striking a view of their moon as Earth, I find.”

“Is that a professional assessment?”

“It is a personal opinion, influenced by a strong predilection for Humans and Human history.”

Beverly rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad you were made one of us. If your father had been Romulan or Cardassian, I might never have met you.”

Data did not launch into an analysis of the events which precipitated his creation, and how unlikely it was that those events could have transpired in another context and produced the same result. Instead, he rested his head on top of hers. “I am glad, too.”

Across the road, the rectangular glow of the living room window was interrupted by a passing shape. Even at such a distance Data’s penetrating vision identified it as his partner. A moment later, Wesley’s silhouette followed after.

“May I share something with you? Something of a personal nature?”

“Always.”

“I used the emotion chip today after refraining from it for three years.”

“Oh?” Beverly tipped her eyes upward to his face. “How was it?”

“It was… intense.”

“In a good or bad way?”

“A good way, I believe. I wished to use the chip to express my affection for Geordi in Human terms. Things did not go exactly as I had planned, though it was in general a pleasant experience.”

“Hm. I’d wager he got your message. You know not all couples, even happy ones, are good communicators. Deanna and Will, for example— telepathy be damned, those two can make _imzadi_ sound like a four-letter word. But you and Geordi have always seemed to get each other.”

Data thought of the body in his lab. “We have our misunderstandings.” He turned to face her more directly. “When I used the chip today, something came into focus in a new way. I have always known I will likely outlive my friends and loved ones, and barring extreme intervention, Geordi is no exception. The thought of being without him does not please me. But today, I _felt_ it. The anticipation of loss.” _S_ _our. Hot. Tight. Creeping._ The rush of biofluid in his ears. “I felt dread. Panic.”

The doctor hummed knowingly. “I understand. Throughout our lives we have to say goodbye to a lot of people. It can be terrifying.”

“That is true; however, I am only at the beginning of all the goodbyes I will have to say. And I will be obliged to say many more than most.”

Beverly grimaced at the stars. “You’ve got me there, Data.” She looked at him. “But you know, there is life after loss, even the loss of the one you love the most.”

_Jack._ Data made an apologetic face. “Ah. You are uniquely well-acquainted with this matter. I am sorry, it was thoughtless of me to bring it up.”

She laughed and shook his knee. “Data, I know you, and you are never thoughtless. I don’t mind talking about it.” She gazed contemplatively at her friend, her sharp and beautiful face bore a wistful expression. “It’s been decades since he died. But the loss didn’t go away; it went inside me. That’s how life works— we intersect and overlap. We have children, we watch them grow up; we make friends who become like family. We carry all these people with us, and they carry us in turn. We get to have each other. Just for a moment. And then we become moments in the lives of others. I’m sorry to say, though, there’s nothing that will make the anticipation any easier.”

Data listened with eyes wide. Beverly took his hand, stroked it with her thumb.

“It’s alright for someone to occupy just a moment in your life. It doesn’t make it hurt any less, but it’s alright.”

He looked at their joined hands. “I am fortunate to have a moment of you in my life, Doctor.”

“Oh, Data,” she grinned. “I’m so happy that you’re a moment in mine.”

They watched the sky. Phobos passed behind a cloud; Terra seemed to shine ever more brightly. Behind them, the willow trees swayed and whispered sweet nothings in the night air.

Data broke the silence. “Do you remember when we would waltz at the Palace of Versailles?”

She shook out her hair. “How could I forget? We were dance floor royalty, back then. With our audience of none.”

“You said you have years of dancing yet ahead of you?”

Beverly raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

Data matched her expression. “It is an invitation.”

She stood and held out her hand, the cardigan slipping from her shoulders. “Computer, run Crusher program nine.”

There came no warbled blip of confirmation, no response at all but the gentle lapping of the pond. Beverly glided into Data’s arms. They fell into step as if no time had passed, turning in perfect synchronization in the dew-soaked grass, and as they twirled out of their bubble of lamplight onto dark uneven ground, Data steadied her so that her feet hardly touched the earth. Data saw crystal chandeliers and painted angels above them, gilded walls and windows streaming with sunlight, gleaming parquet floors below. If the look in Beverly’s eye was to be trusted, she saw it too.


	9. Anniversary

_Push my buttons, I'll be patient, you can try me  
It's just another day in the life _

– _Beth Ditto_

Beverly fixed Data with a stern look. “Make sure he gets his implants checked _regularly_.”

Geordi made an incredulous noise. “I do! Once a year, on the dot!”

“Make it every six months.”

Behind his mother’s back, Wesley gave an apologetic grin.

The morning had come all too soon, and Geordi and Data saw the Crushers off with many hugs and shed tears. They sat on the porch steps and waved until the solar cruiser disappeared into the upper atmosphere, and then they just sat.

Data rested a hand on his partner’s knee. “Geordi, I have a confession. I have an anniversary gift for you. I intended to give it to you the day of, but after my ill-fated surprise, it did not seem appropriate.”

Geordi grinned sheepishly. “Okay, cards on the table: I didn’t have a gift for you until yesterday, and I was banking on you not getting me anything so I could feel superior about it.”

“Then we have both made missteps.”

“Par for the course.”

“On the contrary, until now I have had an excellent track record where gift-giving is concerned.”

“Okay, okay, just take this, would you?” From his pocket Geordi withdrew a piece of folded paper.

Data unfolded it, still warm with Geordi’s body heat. It was a page torn from _Robot Dreams,_ the title page of a story called “The Last Question.” Over the opening paragraph Geordi had written a string of letters and numbers in red grease pencil.

Data looked quizzical. “What is this?”

“That,” Geordi began, “is the reservation code for a burial plot for two in Hesperia Planum. Just in case I decide to go out the traditional way, and you feel like joining me. Even if that’s, you know, a few thousand years later. I promise I’ll stick around for you.”

Data stared at the page in his hands, eyes very wide. “It has not been common practice to bury Human remains for hundreds of years. And there is no common practice established for the disposal of android remains.”

“Yeah, well. A pair of crematorium tickets didn’t seem as symbolically rich.”

“Generally it is you who accuses me of being morbid. Curious.” Data bumped his shoulder against his partner’s. “Thank you, Geordi. It is a perfect gift.”

Geordi smiled. “I’m glad you think so. Can I have mine now?”

Data withdrew into the house and returned with a gift-wrapped box. Geordi peeled away the mechanically-precise wrap job, opened the box, and took out— a low, glimmering dish.

“Oh!” He exclaimed. “This is— some kind of glass?”

Data inclined his head. “The tradition of anniversary gifts dates back to the Holy Roman Empire, when husbands would crown their wives with wreathes of precious metal to commemorate significant matrimonial milestones. The commercialism of the twentieth century led jewelers and other groups who stood to profit from widespread adoption of a gift-giving tradition to create a list of anniversary gifts, ranging from the mundane: paper, fruit, leather; to the lavish: granite, gold, gemstones. The traditional gift for a fifteenth wedding anniversary is crystal.”

Geordi’s mouth formed a silent _ohh._ “Gotcha.” He turned the dish over in his hands. “This is... this is really beautiful. Thank you. I, um. I’m gonna be honest, I’m not sure what use I have for this.”

Data nudged him. “Look inside once more; it is one of a set.”

_A set._ “I see. Data... Data, are these dishes for the cats?”

“They are for you to use to feed the cats. Yes.”

Geordi’s artificially blue eyes met yellow ones. Data wore an expression of perfect innocence.

“…Come here and kiss me, you lunkhead.”

Data’s mouth curled and he followed Geordi’s instructions.

Geordi squeezed his partner’s hip. “Next anniversary, let’s do flowers or something.”

“Agreed.”

When two people spend so many years together, they play every role to each other at different times. Friend, stranger, antagonist. Caretaker, saboteur, confidante. This morning, they were just themselves.

“If your obtaining a couple’s burial plot is any indication of your evolving feelings on the matter of the artificial body, I presume you do not wish to pursue its completion at this time.”

As he spoke, Geordi took Data’s hand and idly brushed the pale knuckles against his mouth. “You know, I think I wouldn’t mind getting to work on it. I’m starting to like the idea of having options.” He planted a kiss on the back of Data’s hand. “Who knows, maybe while we work we’ll decide to make ourselves a kid instead.”

“Perhaps we will.” Data squinted into the bright morning sun, though he did not need to. “I would like our child to have lips similar to yours.”

Geordi snorted. “What happened to, ‘My offspring can choose their own appearance’?”

“That was before I developed a full appreciation for your lips.”

Geordi’s cheeks burned.

When Data made statistical projections of his future, no matter what else it held, Geordi’s presence was a constant. And when Geordi thought of the future, Data was there. It was the refrain of their lives, galactically spiraling, terrestrially blooming, on and on forever, or for however long: _Geordi, I am fond of you. I love you, too, buddy._ And that was all they needed to know.

They sat on the porch with fingers entwined, and went in and out of love.

**Author's Note:**

> Epilogue: Imagine them weeding the garden, razzing each other, embarrassing their nonbinary android kid, blasting ABBA and judy collins into the yard from the shuttlecraft’s onboard stereo and being super fucking married for all eternity. 
> 
> Epilogue to the epilogue: every senior officer’s family moves into their neighborhood and they do weekend barbecues and prank Picard by getting all the kids to follow him around singing frère jacques 
> 
> I promise you I forgot sherlock holmes canonically became a beekeeper in his retirement, I just was POSSESSED by the mental image of Data covered in bees. If the shoe fits, I guess.
> 
> Here are the three songs I quoted:  
> The Book of Love by the Magnetic Fields  
> It’s All Been Done (please don’t judge me for liking the Barenaked Ladies lol)  
> In and Out by Beth Ditto, from which the title is also taken  
> Tell me if thinking about infrared bees and/or Mars astronomy makes you want to cry, too: 
> 
> tumblr // strangesaturday
> 
> join the [daforge discord server!](https://discord.gg/qMAGw5BqXg) i promise everyone is very nice. (18+ only, please)


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